"Ash, when you grow up, what do you wanna do?" 

"I wanna leave the planet, momma says I should."

"Still a momma's boy?"

"Yeah, I love that woman, and I ain't ashamed to say so. I wanna go to the stars, and I wanna take you with me."

The cute girl next to me giggled,

"That's the cheesiest thing I've ever heard."

"That so?"

"Yeah... it's kinda cute."

. . .

The crew cheered as high explosive ordnance rained from the sky, annihilating our targets--a convoy of wraiths--in the form of Argent V missiles from a vulture, which hovered over our heads. 

It unleashed payload after payload, not giving the enemy crews time to react as it completely laid waste to its enemies.

Through the elephant's optics, I watched as vehicle after vehicle was tossed into the air, squads of enemy infantry running around madly as group after group were blow apart.

The barrage stopped, presumably after the Vulture ran out of rockets, "This is Canola 1, fire mission concluded, RTB for rearm and refuel, have a nice day Recon 3, Canola out."

Its thrust jets--which had been burning lazily--roared with renewed vigor and disappeared behind the mountains.

"That does it Jim. Let's head in."

"Not yet Lieutenant, give it a minute. Gotta let those squid-heads burn, sizzle, and pop for a second. I like my meat well done, ya know?"

"Aye." 

Our driver interrupted us,

"Sarge."

"Yeah?" 

"I glassed it with the thermals, looks like everything's dead over there. The vulture schwacked em good."

I looked at Sergeant McDouglas, who shrugged.

"Alright Private, turn The Bitch back on,"

He turned to our guys in the back, "Corporal! Dismount the troops, stay behind the elephant!"

"You heard the Sergeant, jarheads! Get the fuck out and get ready to kill, staggered columns, maintain spread, rah?" "Rah!"

The elephant grumbled in protest back to life, as the armored ramp dropped behind us, with a dozen bored, cramped, hungry, sweaty, and pissed off marines streamed out, rifles ready.

"Sergeant. Secure out flanks, get Fire Team 1 up on that mountain."

"You heard the lieutenant corporal, take your marines and hop to it!"

The hand radio in his hand crackled, "Roger that, secure the flanks!"

The marines manning the M41 machine gun turrets readied themselves, watching over the small squad scale lightly up the rocky foot of the mountain to our left.

"Can I... speak freely sir?"

"Uhuh."

The Sergeant groaned, here we go,

"What the frick are we doing here? Shouldn't we be looking for survivors in Austin III? We're just mopping up assholes in the perimeter, who frankly, aint shit."

"Well, yeah. But we're expecting a naval counter attack." 

I leaned in, "We lost deep space comms. As far as Earth is concerned, Ballast is dust. We will not get reinforcements. Franky, our COs have given up, and are tossing us in random directions, in the hopes that if the covies decide to skip on glassing us, some of us might survive. Keep this to yourself."

McDouglas dragged his hand down his face, "Christ on a stick."

"Yep. Frankly, I don't know why the Covenant keep fucking around. They're scattered all over,  waiting for us to gun em down, as if they're lacking in command and are awaiting orders."

"Hmmpff, maybe the Covenant found bigger fish to fry. And these poor bastards got left to die."

"That would mean that Ballast, and any human still alive, won the fucking lottery... hand me that radio."

The sergeant tossed me the hand radio, "Corporal Wesley?"

"Sir."

"Priority one, salvage anything you can, datapads, terminals, anything that can tell us about what's going on with our foreign visitors."

"Yessir, salvage any info."

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes?"

"Pfc Days here, we got something coming up... contacts, Covies, looks like... they're surrendering?"

I turned to the computer behind me, flicking on the thermals,

"Private I thought you said we wasted em."

The driver didn't look my way, 

"Hard to see when everything's on fire."

Just as she said, nothing ahead of the elephant was visible, other than the blasphemously bright white flames onscreen. I flicked settings on the monitor, and was now looking at one of my marine's head cameras.

Pfc Days was peering down the sights of her battle rifle, three dozen yards above the elephant, observing the rest of her squad, the elephant, and the burning wreckage of the Covenant convoy. From the faint black smoke, a few figures appeared: a handful of grunts and an elite major, the latter limping it's left leg.

"Maybe we can get information off of them."

Every nerve on my body burned, we should gun these guys down while we have the chance, but if my hunch is correct... we need that info.

"Corporal, capture those enemy soldiers."

"Aye sir!"

Pfc Days continued to observe the marines below as they left the safety of the elephant and advanced forward, Corporal Wesley in front, 

"Fire Team 1, how's it look up there?"

"Looks like its just them, no one else behind them."

The marines inched forwards cautiously, rifles raised as they barked orders at the aliens, everything from "Get down on the ground!" to "Give me a reason squid boy!" was slung at the invaders, who more than likely don't understand english.

Now the closest marine, the Corporal, was mere feet apart from the elite. Have some distance you idiot!

He continued to yell, but the elite didn't respond. It wasn't that he had no obvious signs of damage, but the body language of the grunts behind him.

They weren't fidgeting, or making any sort of nervous behavior grunts like them would typically make, especially under these kinds of situations.

Fuck.

The screen was suddenly smeared red, and the perspective of the helmet cam went sideways as Pfc Days hit the ground, without a sound. Somebody close to her yelled "Contact!"

The turret gunners swung around, "Jackals!" one cried out, before both of our chain guns roared with return fire.

What the fuck is going on?!

I flicked the camera POV's on the screen, before finding one on the ground closer to the elite.

Pvt Gunter. The fire team taking prisoners were switching their aim from the elite and grunts, to higher into the mountain. I caught a glimpse of the marines up above unloading at an enemy that we couldn't see. 

Somebody fired a 40mm grenade, tossing rock and rubble onto the marines below.

The elite suddenly showed extreme speed and precision as it landed a high kick on its closest opponent: Corporal Wesley, who cried out in pain (and/or shock) as he fell. The grunts behind him suddenly revealed flashing blue fireballs.

"Grenades!" someone yelled, and that was all it took. The marines hit the enemy squad with everything they had, with the exception of explosives, mowing them down almost simultaneously. 

The combination of assault rifles, battle rifles, smgs, and a shotgun tore them to pieces, leaving behind a hazy blue and purple mist.

"Clear, cease fire squad, cease fire!" someone's voice said from the radio. 

The sergeant suddenly yanked the radio off of my hand. The sound of plasma grenades detonating could be heard from outside.

"Report!"

"One wounded, one KIA. I think that big guy dislocated my goddamn shoulder Sarge. Fire Team 1 is reporting that Pfc Days was killed immediately on contact."

I facepalmed, what a fucking idiot, I should've known this would happen.

The sergeant looked at me, then at the radio.

"Copy that, tell your guys to salvage what they can from Days, and take her tags and cover the body. Continue the mission."

"Aye sarge. Corpsman, give me something for the pain!"

"Tough luck, best I can do is kiss your boo boo."

"In a sexual sort of way?"

"Dream on."

. . .

"Why did you abandon your mission, Sullivan?"

"I haven't sir. I believe I have some information that may help our situation."

The colonel sighed, "Go on."

"We found some information after initiating contact on Hills 237, 238, and 244. Not being able to read, we gave it some of our spooks. Im sure you'll find that information relevant. Im assured of this. 

More importantly, the state of our enemy: Most, if not all, lacked rations of any kind. We found sites we're they've, scavenged, the remains of the fallen to eat. Both human, and covenant. They've also drained most of their munitions, and almost all of their vehicles lacked fuel."

The colonel leaned forward, the guy was actually paying attention for once, "Meaning?"

"It's safe to say, that they are in the same position that we are in. If it turns out that way, I advise retaking the tempo, and taking the fight to the enemy."

The colonel stayed silent for a moment, "I see. I'll put the word to prioritize decrypting those data pads of yours, and I'll try to get in more reports and see if they match yours. If it all lines up, I'll talk to the planetary governor, and from there, we can expect to get a fight going for round two."

"Yes sir."

"Right. Now, lieutenant, get the fuck, back to your assigned A.O."

"Yessir."

. . . 

"Lieutenant?"

"Whatcha want Corporal?"

"Can we jam out to tunes? We're still on the highway, and won't make contact until we're way off. We wanna listen to some metal."

I looked back at the elephant's deck. The twelve marines behind me (with a new face in the crowd) were packed like sardines.

Do these apes want a mosh pit!?

"Hell no! Heathens!"

A collective "Awww" sounded from the deck bellow.

A deep honk resonated from outside of the elephant. Private Turner, our driver poked her head out of the driver's cabin, "Yo, Lt, it's Red Rhino and crew! They're still alive, haha."

"Well, don't be rude, honk back!"

The sound of the horn going off shook my bones, and I chuckled as both drivers climbed their cabins and yelled hello at each other.

This moment of pleasantry was immediately kicked aside as marines on both elephants made like monkeys and climbed the walls of their vics, tossing colorful insults at each other, as well as trading bottles of alcohol, ammo, helmets, and letters by throwing them at  each other. 

A lot of it missed, falling short or being overshot, and some of the bottles predictably smashed inside the deck, on the walls, as well as on the helmeted head of one unfortunate marine.

I wheezed as I hid inside Turner's cabin.

Like high schoolers on a school bus, christ.

The marines on Red Rhino suddenly retreated back inside their elephant. Someone, probably an nco, tossed an elite's energy sword inside our own elephant. 

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

The result was predictable, and every marine went after it. I commend whoever did that for being clever. 

The elephant's traded horn blows one final time as they disappeared from each other's sight.

Our driver shook her head disappointedly, without facing me,

"Every fucking time. Wankers. I get it's a courtesy, but your apes better be cleaning up the mess." 

"Yup, happy to."

I peered back onto the deck, where our corpsman, HM2 Moore, was smacking her behind at a crowd of angry marines, 

"It's mine! It's mine! Suck my cock and balls!"

Someone yanked her foot, and the energy sword disappeared as she fell into the crowd below.

It turned into a mosh pit anyways, I specifically requested the opposite of this!

"Lieutenant."

"What's up sarge?"

He'd been staring at the monitors of the elephant's cameras. The highway leading outside of Vallejo were trashed with civilian, military, and emergency responder vehicles, most of them shoved to the side by UNSC elephants driving through.

It was not a clean sight, many vehicles still having the bodies of their occupants.

"What do you think could be important enough for the Covenant to stop an assault on a planet and abandon their troops? The initial assault itself was also kinda limp wristed. Do you think they found something important? Maybe they found Earth."

If news that Earth is under assault, or worse, is already glassed, it will really shit on morale.

"In the opinion of this marine, Earth is irrelevant. This is my home, and its on fire. We should not look back at the frying pan while we are still in the fire. I know your recent field promotion didn't come with an NCO crash course, but I need you to help me lead these boys."

"Roger that."

The hand radio crackled, "...tion, any station, this is Dogwood 1-2, please... please respond, over."

I grabbed the radio, "This is Recon 3 Actual, we read you, send it."

"We're pinned down at COP Alamo, reference point 187, 066, 21, and are requesting immediate support, can you bring it, over?"

I looked at the sergeant, "It is in our A.O, Lt."

"This is Recon 3, affirm, we'll be coming in from your south, using the Jalisco highway system, over."

"Affirm, we'll hold on as long as we can, be aware that the enemy keep streaming from that direction as well, so you might have contact all along the road, Dogwood 1-2 out."

"Sergeant, give Turner our destination route."

"Aye."

"Tucker, Ray, get back on the M41s, expect contact."

"Aye sir." "Heard!"

"We going to a fight?" Wesley,

"Yep, we got a request to help out Dogwood 1. They have casualties, and are under heavy contact. The road we're taking will likely have covies all over the damn place, so be prepared to dismount under fire. Rah?"

"Oorah!"

The groveling and cursing turned to excited chattering, as well as a mix of orders being barked by fire team leaders. 

This fits the bill. Our orders are to search and destroy any covenant forces in our vicinity. 

"Lieutenant."

"Sergeant?"

"We just got word, our sister company is right behind us, and it looks like they brought armor. Colonel Quinn has also been made aware of the situation and is preparing to have our Weapons company, callsign Roundhouse 1 and 2, getting ready to support our advance. Also, the Colonel wants to talk to you."

He tossed me the radio,

"This is Recon 3 Act-"

"Lieutenant, I can't say much, other than you are right. Unbeknownst to Dogwood 1, they are sitting dangerously close to a Covenant deep space radio transmitter, it's sending irregularly high energy waves. We may have found whatever's killing our long range radio traffic. Your job, is to lead your squad as K Company's advance guard. 

Kill any inhuman son of a bitch who gets in your way. If resistance proves too much for your squad, I want you to develop the situation advantageously to prevent their escape, so that when K Company and co. catches up, you mop the floor with them. Take out those hostiles, link up with available forces on and arriving to COP Alamo, then assault the Covenant stronghold. How copy?"

"Copy that, Recon 3 Actual out."

"Contact, left flank, ghosts!"

Our gunners opened fire, firing in turns so that their barrels wouldn't melt and they'd have a constant stream of fire.

"He's gone, look at him burn!"

"Tucker, are there anymore visible contact?"

"Negatory!"

"Corporal Wesley, dismount your marines, I want Fire Team 1 on our left flank, Fire Team 2 on the right. Hop it."

"Aye sir, you heard the boss, get the hell out!"

The ramp dropped, and the Marines split off into their assigned positions, all the while the gunners laid down suppressive fire on any spot that could've held hidden enemy forces.

"Contacts!" "Fuck em up!" "Get some!"

"Lieutenant."

"You wanna join the men?"

"Yessir."

"Can you fight?"

"My leg will hold."

"Then by all means, let's go."

Day one, Siege on Combat Outpost Alamo, Morning, Early August? 2552.

"Fuck me, FUCK, ME!"

The turret from our second tank flew high into the air, a trail of green flashes following under it. The lead scorpion laid as a smoldering wreck on the side of the road.

A dozen bodies, half being from Fire Team 2, laud around them as well.

"It's an ambush, it's a fu-cking massacre, fall ba-"

"Wesley! Get your shit together before I shoot you. Pull the boys back, retake fire superiority, now you motherfucker, now!"

"Uh, aye lieutenant,"

He turned back,

"GET OFF THE ROAD! PULL BACK 50 METERS AND GET OFF THE ROAD YOU SONS OF BITCHES! Squad, lay down suppressive fire, grenades, rockets, anything!"

He then dragged out an MMG team out of a bush next to us, "Move you fucking pussies! Set this shit down here, half second bursts!"

"Aye!" 

"Go, go, squad, on me!"

The Marines bounded forwards in groups of threes, while the machine gun laid down fire down the road and into the tree ridden hills.

"Move, move, move!"

Marines fell as plasma bolts cut through the air, but a torrent of return fire made any follow up kills inaccurate. 

This was when a squad belonging to K Company, bless their hearts, launched a flanking attack from our left. They jumped down from behind and into an enemy trench on the hill to the left side of our position, bayonets fixed on their rifles. 

Only five men emerged, and we did our damndest to lay down covering fire for them. "C'mon, move back you sons of bitches!"

The marines filed in in columns, spread apart to avoid multiple casualties at the same time. Several banshees strafed our position, but the guns on our elephants shot them down behind us.

The Bitch pushed ahead of us, the the marines using the elephant as cover. It shoved the charred carcasses of the two destroyed scorpions out of the way.

"Oh god, watch out!"

I wasn't paying attention to the bodies on the ground, but some of them screamed as the elephant went over them.

"Turner! Turner!"

I manhandled a Radio Operator, fumbling with the phone, 

"Turner, halt! STOP MOVING!"

"What? Are you nuts, if we hold, we're gonna-"

"You're crushing wounded marines, back up!"

"What, are you-"

"Back the fuck up!"

A thick ray of green smashed into the windshield of the driver's cabin, and the radio cut off with a yell.

"Turner, Turner? God damn it. Moore, get in the elephant, get anyone not dead out, don't take your time, go! McDouglas, make sure she gets there!"

"Aye LT!" "Aye sir!"

"Wesley, give me a defensive perimeter on that elephant, now! Get our walking wounded out of here, evac any who cant walk, we're bugging out!"

"Aye sir!"

. . .

Rained had poured a few days ago, but were we had taken positions, it had not dried yet.

We were entrenched on the side of the hills, shielding from the heavy Covenant weapons set up on COP Alamo. 

The road to it had been somewhat cleared, though littered with bodies. 

We sat quietly as mortars and TOW rockets whistled and screamed overhead towards enemy positions.

"How many dead?"

"Fire Team 2's gone. We lost Ray and Tucker on The Bitch, and Turner... well, Turner's pretty much dead. 

We lost Montgomery and Gomez on Fire Team 1 as well. Half of K company are wasted, and E company is pretty much gone. 

I say gone, but it's more accurate to say that they ceased to exist the moment they entered the right flank. Walked into a Covenant support fire firing line. Plasma machine guns cut em down.

F Company, and I Company will join us at O'dark hundred, so all we need to do, is hold the hill."

"Were it so easy."

Day two, Siege on COP Alamo, Midday

"That emergency transponder's still going, so that means we still got marines inside that Post! Men and women from the Marine Corps, OUR Marine Corps!"

"Marine Corps!" "Marine Corps!"

And that was that, Thee and a half Marine companies charged at COP Alamo, running down the hill and through the wide, semi dry, muddy creek bed that lay below it. 

We hopped over many bodies, human and alien, as well as debris, destroyed covenant vehicles, and the remnants of the trees that used to dominate the landscape.

The bodies ahve been left to rot all day, and many were swelling up and smelling awful. Most were in one piece, but many having been torn up by the Alamo's heavy machine guns and rockets. 

Seven seconds of silence, sake for the sound our gear made, rattling as we stormed ahead.

Pfc Giselle was the first to go down. a seven inch pink crystal buried itself into his heart, and he hit the ground hard, the momentum making him slide forward for several feet.

After that, chaos. A hail of plasma, needler, and human gunfire hit us like a brick wall, tearing the front echelons to pieces. A fuel rod blast tore the leg off of my R.O, Pfc Trevino, his foot hitting me in the knee, his body flailing several feet up in the air.

Deadly shrapnel whistled over me, as anyone not dead or stupid hit the deck, crawling unto the rocky upper lip on the other side of the creek bed. 

Mortars from the hills behind us sailed over our heads, some providing smoke cover, other hitting with deadly H.E.

I saw a crowd of grunts be obliterated, scattering to many pieces before their remains were hidden in the smoke. 

When the smoke cleared, the same group of grunts were in their same position, shooting at our guys.

Cpl Wesley had borrowed a machine gun from our sister company, using the original owner's body as leverage to get an angle on the bastards, "Die motherFUCKER!" brrrrap "DIE MOTHERFUCKER!" brrrrap "Die! Die! Di-"

The stumps where his legs used to be poured his life essence out profusely, and HM2 Moore tried desperately to stop the bleeding, taking belts from fallen marines to make makeshift tourniquets.

I dragged myself over to Trevino, over turning his body and reaching for the radio on his back, "Roundhouse 2, Roundhouse two, please respond. This is Recon 3 requesting fire support on,"

And then I noticed the huge plasma burn that had ate away at his radio, to which I just flung the radio's phone aside.

A familiar face dragged themselves over to my makeshift trench.

"Unfourtunate that you're still alive"

"Shut up sergeant."

"We got a dead pool goin. I got 20 on your name. 

...

You ready?"

"Yup."

McDouglas leaned back, and yelling to his left and his right, "Surpressive fire! Surpressive fire!"

The marines let out hollers and yells as they rose from cover. I took note that many were hit as they did so, but the return fire they gave was amazing. I have never seen a literal wall of fire like that, the muzzle flashes being a sight to behold.

"Rockets! Rockets! Do your thing!"

Two more marines rose from cover, raising spanker rocket launchers as they did so. They fired all four rockets together, hitting the mounted weapon and fuel rod positions.

I flipped onto my back, raised my flare gun, and fired into the air. "LEFT FLANK! LEFT FLANK!" Someone cried out.

Elites were trying to flank us, making their way into the river bed, some brandishing energy swords. 

Marines opened fire, and Wesley helped gun down the majority of them, stacking their bodies like firewood before they could reach us.

He leaned back under, his hands smoking, having had to had handle the machine gun by the barrel, burning his palms.

Moments later, the surviving scorpion, Sangré, arrived. It dumped sabot round after sabot into the enemy positions, firing its coaux .50 caliber machine guns interchangeably.

When the scorpion ceased fire and no covenant showed themselves, one of our flamers rushed forward towards the pillboxes at the side of the COP, a squad of rifle men following behind her to protect her,

"YEAAAAAAH!"

The flamethrower roared alongside its user, an inhuman scream filled with a very familiar wrath, it went in and out of the pillbox's cavities like mouthwash. Covenant troops fell out of their holes, screeching and writhing like rodents. 

The marines wasted no time executing them, firing singular rounds at close range. Some ballsy NCO went inside one of the flaming pillboxes, shotgun in hand. I heard it go off several times.

Our remaining forces stacked up on either side of the large hole on the side of COP Alamo, and at my command, me had some of our guys lobbed frag grenades over the wall. We lobbed them at out 3, 6, and 9 clock directions, to maximize killing potential.

As they went off, we stormed the COP. Inside, any covie thay wasnt dead, was wandering around, dazed and shook. We formed a natural firing line, and opened fire.

. . .

There were several crater holes inside the walls of the COP, filled to the brim with the bodies of grunts, elites, jackals and skirmishers, as well as a number of elites.

When we couldn't find any marine bodies, we assumed they were at the bottom of the craters. 

Each one was deep enough to hold 500 bodies, so we started dumping the alien bodies onto the creek bed, until we eventually reached the human bodies. 

We had no time, or energy to bury them, so we dumped our own dead in there, dumped gasoline on them, and set them alight.

The smell of burnt flesh caught me off guard, as I suddenly remembered what the smell of cooked meat smelled like. My thoughts were interrupted when the ammo on our dead started cooking off. 

"Did you not check them for supplies and ammo?"

"What? You mean loot the dead? Are you serious?"

"OUR wounded need water you fucking idiot, we need water and ammo, you fucking dumbass, you moron!"

The flamethrower team, they were on this detail. A thought suddenly occurred to me,

"You two, did you take their tags?"

"Tags?"

"Yeah. Their dog tags.

The face on the girl with the flamethrower lost all color, and her partner grabbed her by the collar,

"You fucking idiot! You fu-cking idiot! I should toss you in there! How the FUCK are we gonna figure out who's dead and who ain't? How are we gonna tell their FUcking families? You fucking moron!"

At that point, the girl was sobbing on the ground, and her partner was on top of her, yelling at her with a the age he's boiled up for weeks.

Sgt McDouglas yanked him off of her by the collar, "That'll be ALL, lance corporal, stand down."

"What are our casualties Jim?"

"Four men of our original squad of 12 are combat effective. K company's gone. India Company's surviving corpsman tells me Wesley doesn't look like he's gonna make it."

"Where's our corpsman? Where's Moore?"

"KIA sir."

"What? How? She was in the back!"

"She drowned. She was dragging a red casualty up the hill by herself, and slipped into one of those whirlpool mud holes filled with water. She couldn't climb out."

I covered my eyes, Are you serious? Like this? are you shitting me? I slammed my fist down on the somewhat dry, muddy ground,

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" 

"... Additionally, the survivors of India are requesting that you take command. They lost half their guys and have no officers."

"Very well. What of Foxtrot company?"

"They're doing reconnaissance on the enemy stronghold. 35th MEU will conduct the assault, once they arrive, likely within the later hours of tonight."

"I see."

"Lt. Sullivan?"

"Report."

"Gunnery Sergeant Portillo, 1st Battalion, 2nd squad, Foxtrot company."

"What's goin on?"

"We're about to conduct an assault on the main Covenant FOB, and require your assistance."

"An assault? What happened to recon."

"The situation is in our favor. The enemy troops are undermanned and seem to lack leadership. And, well if I may say so myself, their security is shit. I led a squad inside and we nabbed all their heavy small arms."

I looked at McDouglas, who shrugged,

"Now's a good a time as ever.

We stripped whatever supplies we can from here, and anyone still combat effective is ready to rock and roll."

I nodded in approval.

"Tell our squad leaders we will give the warning order in ten. And tell the boys to prepare for a nigh-time engagement."

"Roger that boss."

. . .

Five squads stood before me, a mismatch of marines from multiple units, mostly from India company.

Gunner Sergeant Portillo has elected to join us, and was now leading a squad comprised of the survivors from K company, as well as from my squad.

Pvt Kidman, Sgt McDouglas, Pvt Yorinski, and Pvt Hudson, along with me, are all that remains.

Pvt Pachinko, HM3 Anton, and Pfc Toronto--Portillo's remaining squad members, have also joined us.

"Im not good at speeches, and were out of time. Hit em hard marines, let's go!"

"Oorah!"

. . .

As we went over, I stopped for a second to surmise the situation as it was;

Half a dozen squad sized marine formations were set up on one side of a bridge, going over a shallow river.

The battlefield was painted in a dark orange hue as the sun began to set.

Foxtrot company was unloading onto the enemy on the other side, who were running all over their camp. It looked a real turkey shoot, grunts and jackals running around madly as they rushed towards defensive positions.

Behind them, a large, pointed alien structure towered.

"Lieutenant! Lead your men across  that bridge and hit the middle structure before they get a chance to reform. We'll cover your rear and work our way inside. We also got word that more Covenant forces are inbound, so you better hustle!"

"Aye Captain! Get tactical marines! Go, go, go!"

My marines surged forward, punching easily through the weak defense lines set up by the aliens.

The cowards melted before our onslaught, and with no elites in our way, the grunts and jackals scattered before us.

Any alien that found its balls and got too close was scared off by Pvt Mitsuzu's flamethrower, who was more than a little happy to fry the bastards.

"Don't stop! Keep going! Keep going!"

We unloaded at the enemy, tossing the occasional frag grenade inside dens. We had to use our bayonets on more than one occasion, and I think I saw the Gunny use his shotgun to tear a jackal in half.

"My squad, on me, everyone else, defensive line, do not let the enemy retake the structure!"

"Oorah!"

Right, how do I open this thing? Surely they wouldn't leave it open... 

They did.

"Sergeant, frag em."

"With pleasure, grenades! Do it!"

A handful of grenades were tossed inside, and we stormed inside right after the bell. 

One after the other, we pushed our way inside the dark ground floor room, firing our weapons at close quarters.

"Clear! Is this the control room?"

"Negative, second floor, second floor!"

My radio crackled, "Recon 3, this is Ursa 1 Actual, interrogative, just got word from HQ, hold that structure, do not destroy it. The spooks at headquarters say they can hot wire it for our use, how copy."

"I read you. Goddamn it, well hurry it up and get in here."

"We're well on our way, standby. Ursa 1 actual out."

"Lt!"

"Yeah?"

"2nd floor clear, lots of weird terminal shit up here, all yours."

"Rog, Sergeant, set up at the entrance and provide support for the rest of our guys."

"Rah."

"Ursa 1, Recon 3, Im gonna see what i can do about the jammer signal. No problem in deactivating it is there?"

"No problem, go for it."

Now, what the hell do I press to turn this thing off?

I walked up to an important looking terminal. Weird orange, blue, and red alien hieroglyphics  floated from the terminal. I inspected it as best as I can, but I couldn't guess how it would work.

Ok, let's try this.

I rubbed my fingers all over the screen, the "screen" reacting like the surface of water. I waited a second. The purplish blue lights dimmed, before turning red. 

How about this?

They flickered green, then cyan, then purple.

"That does absolutely nothing. Why couldn't these assholes make this easy and put it in english. It IS the language of the skies, and presumably, space."

I tried again and... nothing?

My radio crackled inside my helmet, "Lt, it's Gunny Portillo, be advised, we got some activity on the wire. Large enemy presence."

"Copy that, hold your position at all costs sergeant."

The ground shook, and the sound of explosions echoed inside,

"McDouglas, what the hell was that?"

"It's a vulture, it's engaging hostiles with it's rockets. It's doing a pretty good job. Looks like the 35th is close behind."

"Copy that, don't stare too long."

Ok, let's try again.

An beeping sound sang. 

It did something, but I can't tell what. Oh, I know. I unholstered my radio, and flicked through the channels. The radio. Connected to my helmet.

I winced as a glitch in the system, or maybe the alien structure, boosted the signal, messing with the channels. A choir of multiple voices could be heard all at once, and I smashed the volume button repeatedly to lower it before I could go deaf.

"Mayday mayday mayday, this is the UNSC Roosevelt, we are stranded and dead in the water in-" "Hello? is anyone out there?" "This is Sgt Winchester, 7th battalion, 3rd Marines, we got survivors held up on" "Is anyone out there? Is anyone alive!? Im all alone out here!"

Jesus. "HQ, this is Recon 3 Actual, please respond."

"Yes, we read you Recon 3 loud and clear. We're getting all these emergency signals from all over the planet, as well as from our surviving ships in orbit. I take it that was you, yes?"

Shunk.

The terminal in front of me was suddenly bathed in blood, and I could feel my insides cook. Whatever just hit me, its turning my lung into an oven, as my breath started heating up. Fuck, I could feel my blood literally boil.

I closed my eyes shut from the pain as I felt myself be lifted into the air. I hit the ground, but I couldn't feel the impact. I could only feel my breathing; long, drawn out breaths, gasping hot air with shuddering exhales.

This sucks. This fucking sucks. Im dying. Fuck.

I quickly lost consciousness 

. . .

"What do you mean you're not coming?"

"I can't I have orders. I need to stay with the men."

Sophia shook her head,

"You said you wouldn't leave me."

"Im not abandoning you. I'll come for you after we win this war. But for now, I cannot abandon my home, especially while we still have civilians to evacuate. We will meet again."

. . .

"...-ont know how the hell he's still alive. His left lung is cooked, and so are both his kidneys. He's also sustained severe damage to the stomach. He should be very fucking dead."

"Well, he was always kinda on the stupid side. We are talking about the same guy who thought fries were made of bread."

"For real? Ahahaha!"

"Maybe, if we don't acknowledge it, his brain will be too dumb to realize that he's supposed to be dead."

"Look, his eyes are moving!"

"Hey, moron, you still with us?"

. . .

"Wakey wakey Captain."

Who? Whatever, not me. Im tired. I think I'll sleep in.

"THIS MEANS YOU! CAN YOU HEAR ME NOOOW!?"

A bolt of electricity yanked me awake, and my forehead smacked against the glass window of my cold cryo bed.

Great, now I got the mark of shame.

"Are you kidding me? What the hell? Who are the fuck you? I should kick your ass."

A small yellow figure floated in front of me, it reminded me of a Russian school boy, from the pictures i've seen of 20th century Earth history. 

An A.I. Great. Wait, that means im on a ship!

"Privet, pleasure to meet you!"

"Report."

"Good morning to you too. I am Druid, and we are on the UNSC... er, MaDley? Yeah, the MaDley's sick bay."

"Explain?"

"Well, the Navy had to smash together the UNSC Mattis into the UNSC Bradley, two Paris class ships, in order to get one ship into working order. We are currently en route towards the Sol System. We're on our way towards Earth this very moment."

"Earth? Have they?"

"Yes indeed. A small Covenant armada are engaged with Earth's conventional space defenses... it's not going well.

I've also been informed that an assault carrier has breached our defenses and is currently smacking ground forces around in Africa."

"Shit, what of my wounds?"

"Currently, your status is 135%. You're as green as they come Captain! Oh, and you've been field promoted."

"Captain? Wait, what do you mean 135%? Is that some kind of joke?"

"Nope! You've taken considerable organ damage, and your heart, stomach, left lung, kidneys, and a segment of your spine has been replaced by augmented cybernetics. You're an ass kicking cyborg now! Ypa!"

"Keep this conversation in english."

"Err, ok. Anyways, we've been given the warning order, and I've been told to personally make your morning hell. Put your clothes back on and report to your CO. Your ass belongs to the mighty 35th MEU, and on behalf of Ballast, we're gonna go fight aliens on Earth!"

"I see. You mentioned the Bradley. What was its faith. It was supposed to evacuate to Reach."

"The Bradley? Yeah, a Covenant fleet jumped out of slipspace right in front of them. An assault carrier rammed it and tore it in half, all hands lost, including civilians being evacuated."

His cheerful tone softened suddenly, 

"Uh... did... did you have anyone important there?"

I sighed. "Don't worry about it. Lead me to my men."

"Aye aye. And you should probably know, you're supposed to report to Deck Zulu Foxtrot 0, for supplemental training."

"Training? What kind of training?"

"Er, your platoon kinda got upgraded to ODSTs. Not because you're a special boy, but because we have not many pelicans but many SOEIV drop pods. Like, a lot. We kinda looted the pods off of a dozen destroyed UNSC ships."

"You were gonna tell me this, when?"

"Just now. Oh, and you're 30 minutes late. 31 now."

"Outstanding."